Save the Last Dance
by Dean Ocean
Summary: Remus mourns and flashes back on better memories. Post Order of the Phoenix, with flash backs to Marauders Era.


"**Save the Last Dance for Me" **

One month dragged by, then another. It seemed to Remus that the months were beginning to look the same. And three months after Sirius had gone, he's still unable to breathe at night. He'd lay awake in the familiar bed, surrounded by their sheets and their equally-familiar-though-hauntingly-real smells. The bed still smelled of Sirius; Remus would bury his face into a pillow when he felt too exhausted to fight his nightmares any longer and sleep with the comforting smell of the man filling his head. He even refused to let anyone pull the sheets from the bed and clean them. Molly had insisted once, seeing the stains of tears on the pillows but Remus had refused to budge on the matter.

It was the third month, and Remus sat at the empty kitchen table with a cold cup of tea in his hands. He cupped it gently in both palms but never brought it to his lips. The tea bag had been left to steep so long the tea was black, and the smells of herbs and spices had long since disappeared. He couldn't move. He heard the world stir around him, and in another room he could hear Harry and his friends arguing over something. He flicked at the long string attached to the teabag.

From the other room he heard music sputtering. Remus lifted his head and listened to the sounds. He could hear Hermione yelling at the boys, and smirked. He always found himself marveling how much Harry reminded him of James. And the bond between Harry and Ron seemed as strong as the bond James had shared with Sirius. Remus had always known how much he loved Sirius; he would never have been able to separate the pair of them. Remus had his place with Sirius, and James had his. It had taken Remus years to understand that, and even longer to accept it. Now as he listened to the three children argue in the living room he found his mind remembering all the times spent in innocence, times he thought would last forever. But children grow up, and innocence eventually fades away.

He could hear music, first static, then something cutting in and out, but eventually the vague notes of a tune floated through the room. He heard Hermione tell someone to turn it off. Remus stood and headed for the front room, and spotted the three children gathered around what appeared to be a radio. Remus had dealt with Muggle objects before, of course, but was surprised to find it here in the Black house. His surprise was dimmed when he noticed Arthur Weasley bent over the radio adjusting the dials on it.

"Mr. Weasley, you should turn that off. You might wake the painting," Hermione cautioned, dancing nervously from one foot to another.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the curly-haired girl, and turned back to the radio. He gave the knob one more nudge and a recognizable tune floated out of the small speakers on either side of the object, rough around the edges and that had clearly seen better days.

"Leave it on," Remus said suddenly, coming further into the room. He stared at the radio, listened to the words of the song that was achingly familiar. It was like a voice calling out to him, from beyond the grave saying his name. He smiled softly as he listened, letting his mind drift back to a happier time.

_Remus bent over a stack of papers, one hand trying to keep them from rolling back into their scrolls __while the other tried to fill in answers. It was a form, necessary for him to pursue his sudden want to become a professor. He sighed. It seemed there were three new forms for every form he completed and the work was piling up on the coffee table in his flat._

Sirius was in the bedroom. Periodically Remus heard him exclaim something and then fall silent. Once he heard Sirius curse and yowl, which was followed by several minutes of pounding. After Remus shouted at him he was trying to work, Sirius quieted. Remus hadn't heard much since, though he thought he'd smelled smoke more than once.

Remus thought his brain was going to explode. Or perhaps implode. He rubbed his temples and tried to focus, but his eyes were tired. The door to the bedroom swung open and Sirius stepped out, followed by the sounds of music. Remus looked up and glared at him.

"I'm trying to work here," he muttered and turned back to the assorted paperwork.

Sirius sauntered further into the room, unconcerned. "Dance with me."

"What? No, Sirius, I'm trying to get this done." Remus waved Sirius off with a sound of frustration.

Sirius held his hand as he leaned over the edge of the couch. "Dance with me, Remus." The music in the background was light; it had a beat that was reminiscent of the 1950's rock and roll that was popular with Muggles of that era. Remus knew it only by association; he had little direct knowledge of the Muggle world. Sirius had been raised as a pureblood but had a surprising grasp of the Muggle world, which could be attributed to his own rebellious nature. Nothing angered the Black family more than Sirius cavorting with Muggles, so naturally Sirius did so frequently.

"Where did you get that thing?" Remus asked, nodding to the bedroom as he stared at the smirking Sirius.

"Bought it. Took me all afternoon to get it to work, but it's working. Now dance with me." He flapped his hand at him impatiently.

Remus sighed and slipped his fingers into Sirius's, letting the black-headed man pull him to his feet. Sometimes it was simply better to give in than to try and argue with Sirius. Remus was surprised when Sirius pulled him in close, holding him classically with one hand around Remus's waist and the other entwined with Remus's up and out from their shoulders. Remus pressed himself close to Sirius, following his lead.

"You need to relax, you're far too stressed," Sirius said softly. He pushed Remus out away from him, and dragged him back in quickly. He tilted and let Remus fall away from him. Remus's hand at Sirius's waist struggled to hang on, but a strong arm caught him from behind and Sirius leaned over him with a cocky grin. "Relax, Remus. I'll catch you, I won't let you fall."

Sirius pulled them both back up and kept Remus close to him. They pressed against one another as the music played in the background. Remus's eyes watched Sirius's, bright and grey and bottomless, and they glistened and twinkled with the mischief Sirius was known for. Sirius never let his eyes leave Remus, even when he pulled their hands in and rested them against his chest, clutching Remus with the other arm and pressing the man's body against his, as if by sheer force of will he could make them one.

_The second time Sirius dipped him, Remus was better prepared. He relaxed and went with it. When Sirius pulled him back up, he kissed him. Sirius's mouth was warm, inviting, and Remus returned it heartily, only to be forced away from Sirius, and made to turn about with one hand over his head. He laughed when Sirius pulled him back in close._

Sirius put his face alongside Remus's, closing his eyes they swayed together to the beat of the music. They could have been in a room of a hundred and still have only noticed each other. Everything else faded away from Remus's mind, and Sirius's mind as well, and both sank into the dancing, swaying aimlessly about their living room.

"He is always good to me, good to him I try to be…" Sirius spoke the words along with the woman who sang them on the radio.

Remus smiled. "How do you know the words?"

"Lucky guess." Sirius kissed Remus's cheek gently, and then rested his chin on the other man's shoulder. With eyes closed, they slowly danced as the music faded out on the radio...

Remus touched the knobs gently as not to move them. He ran his fingers along the mesh that covered the speakers and smiled when he noticed the scorch marks along the hull.

"He's a rebel, and he'll never be any good. He's a rebel 'cause he never does what he should. And just because he doesn't do what everybody else does, that's no reason why we can't share a love. He is always good to me… Good to him I try to be…" Remus sang the words very softly, like he was in a trance and the song was the only thing he knew. They flowed along with the music, and were somehow pained in every syllable.

The song faded out and a stranger's voice came on. "And that one goes out to all the lonely hearts out there out who loved the wrong kind of guy –"

Remus turned the radio off. Every one else in the room was silent, watching him. He took a deep breath and turned to face the rest of the room. "Who wants chocolate?" he asked quietly, offering the children a warm smile.

"I do!" Ran said impulsively, and hissed when Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Into the kitchen with you, hurry now." Remus ushered the three children towards the kitchen. He glanced towards Arthur who seemed trapped between pride he got the contraption working, and guilt he'd obviously brought up such a painful subject. Remus smiled softly at him. "Thank you, Arthur," was all he said before following the three students into the kitchen for chocolate. 

_He's a rebel and he'll never ever be - any good  
He's a rebel 'cos he never ever does - what he should  
And just because he doesn't do what - everybody else does  
That's no reason why I can't give him all my love._

He is always good to me - always treats me tenderly  
He's not a rebel, no, no, no.  
He's not a rebel, no, no, no.  
Not to me.

- The Crystals. "He's a Rebel"


End file.
